


Through the Old Wooden Door

by thewishingdragon



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Chandler's gonna make a lot of bad decisions, Coraline AU, F/F, The idea wouldn't leave me alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewishingdragon/pseuds/thewishingdragon
Summary: It's a Coraline AU because I apparently can't stop writing new works at the moment.





	1. Chapter 1

Heather Chandler sat in the middle of her bed, her eyes skimming over the same paragraph of text over and over again, never quite absorbing any of the words on the page. She was bored. That was unacceptable. With a sigh, she sat up, Duke and Mac turning to look at her from where they were sprawled out on the mattress.

”What’s wrong?” Mac asked.

“I’m bored,” she huffed, “I want to do something.”

Duke scoffed. “Too bad you’re grounded.”

“Shut up, Heather,” Chandler snapped.

“Sorry, Heather.”

Chandler thought for a moment. “Well, if I can’t leave the house, then I suppose we’ll have to find something to do here.”

Mac frowned. “What’s there to do though?”

Chandler shrugged. “No clue. Never found anything worth doing in the other rooms.”

“Maybe there’s still some room in the house that you haven’t been in yet,” Duke muttered, “We could take a look and see.”

Chandler shook her head. “The only room in the house I haven’t looked in is the basement.”

“Let’s try that then!” Mac said, “It’ll be like a little adventure!”

Chandler rolled her eyes, fighting back the beginnings of a fond smile. “Fine. Let’s go see if there’s anything interesting down there.”

With that, the Heathers grabbed a flashlight from Chandler’s closet and went downstairs to take a look in the basement.

They stood outside the door leading down to the lowest level of the house. A sudden sense of unease permeated the air. Still, Chandler wasn’t one to show fear, so she steeled herself and turned the knob.

The door swung open, the creaking of the hinges echoing loudly in the empty hallway, and Chandler turned on the flashlight and led the way into the dark room below.

She stopped a few paces from the stairs, eyes searching in the mess of old boxes and cobwebs.

Suddenly, she was startled by Mac’s hand on her shoulder.

“What’s that?” Mac asked, pointing to one of the walls. Sure enough there was something odd there.

“It’s blocked by boxes,” Duke said, “We probably shouldn’t mess with anything.”

“It’s only a few.” Mac argued, stepping forward and pushing them out of the way.

Chandler’s eyes widened. There, right in the middle of the furthest wall, was a large, ornate wooden door, with intricate designs carved into the frame.

“Well, that’s unusual,” Duke remarked.

Chandler found her feet carrying her forward almost of their own accord, her hand reaching out towards the old-looking iron handle, but when she tried to open it, the knob wouldn’t budge.

Chandler huffed. “Of _course_ it’s locked.”

Duke eyed the door curiously. “It’s got to have a key, right? Do you know where it might be?”

Chandler hummed thoughtfully. “I think there’s a junk drawer in the kitchen.”

Duke nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Chandler and Mac hardly had time to protest as Duke dashed up the basement stairs.

Mac looked at the door. “What do you think is behind it?”

Chandler shrugged. “Not much use speculating, right? If we find the key, then we’ll see what’s back there, and if we don’t, then we’ve wasted ten minutes of our lives that we’re never getting back.”

Mac chuckled. “Gee, Heather, pessimistic much?”

“I’m either right or I’m pleasantly surprised.”

Mac grinned. “That’s an awfully optimistic way of looking at it.”

Chandler fought to suppress a grin.

Not long after that, they heard the sound of Duke’s footsteps as she rushed down the stairs. They turned to see her grinning triumphantly, holding an old-looking iron key.

“How sure are we that it’s the right key?” Chandler asked.

Duke shrugged, walking past her and to the door. “It was the only one in the drawer.” She slid the key into the lock and turned it, grinning wider as the door unlocked.

“What are the odds?” Chandler muttered as Duke turned the knob.

The door swung open silently, and the Heathers peered into the dark hallway behind it.

The feeling of unease was stronger now, but Chandler forged ahead, heels clicking against the wooden floor of the corridor, so different from the concrete flooring of the rest of the basement.

Mac and Duke trailed behind, and soon enough they reached the end of the hallway to find-

Her basement. Again.

Frowning in confusion, Chandler craned her neck to look behind her. “Did we get turned around?”

Duke and Mac shook their heads, though they looked uncertain, and looked around the basement for any evidence that this wasn’t just an exact replica of the space they’d just left.

Chandler jumped at the sound of footsteps on the floor above them. From the sound of it, whoever the person was, they were in the kitchen. She motioned for Mac and Duke to follow, and the three trekked up the stairs to the upper level of the house.

The door opened without a sound, which was already suspicious, but then Chandler heard it. Humming. Nobody in the house hummed. Her parents were bitter and cold and quiet, and they barely tolerated her when she _wasn’t_ making noise.

She turned off her flashlight and wandered towards the sound, Mac and Duke only a few paces behind.

She peeked inside the kitchen and could hardly believe the sight she was met with.

It was her mother, or someone who looked just like her mother, standing in front of the stove, cooking something. Except… this woman looked nothing like her mother at a second glance. Her hair was dark, rather than the warm copper color her mother’s was, and she was too tall and skinny, too sickly looking compared to her actual mother. Still, in some corner of her mind, she knew this person was meant to look just like her mother, and she somehow did and didn’t all at once.

Before she could think much more on the matter, her not-mother noticed her.

“Heather, sweetheart! You’re just in time for lunch!” the woman’s (?) grin was too wide, too unnatural, and her eyes-

Wait.

That couldn’t be. Could it?  


Two large black buttons sat in the spaces where her eyes were meant to be.

“...Who are you?” Chandler asked, too shocked to be afraid.

The woman smiled. “I’m your mother, dear.”

“With all due respect, you look nothing like my mother.”

“I’m your other mother, silly,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, her grin not faltering once.

“I wasn’t aware I had another mother,” Chandler drawled, “Although I guess I should have seen it coming. It was only a matter of time before we found out about my father's affairs.”

The woman’s chuckle sounded wrong, grin stretching impossibly wide. “Not that kind of other mother, darling. I’m your better mother.”

Chandler hummed. “Better, huh?”

Her self-proclaimed other mother nodded. “Everyone’s got one.”

Duke cleared her throat. “Do they all have the…” she gestured vaguely to her eyes.

“Oh, these?” The Other Mother tapped a too-long fingernail against her left button eye. “I’m not too sure, now that you mention it. It’s just been us here for the longest time. We’ve missed you, you know.”

Chandler scoffed. “My parents wouldn’t miss me.”

“That’s what makes us better, Heather,” the Other Mother said matter-of-factly, “Now, you three go upstairs and get washed up for lunch. I’m making chili! Your favorite!”

“O...kay?” Chandler said, turning and walking away from the odd scene in front of her.

They went up to her bedroom, or rather, her other bedroom, which looked almost identical to her usual room.

Duke was the first to speak. “Okay, what the fuck is going on? Are we in the Twilight Zone or some shit?! This isn’t normal!”

Mac looked unnerved, but still attempted to soothe Duke. “Calm down a little, Heather. Let’s try to think about this rationally.”

“Rationally?” Chandler scoffed, “How the hell do we rationalize this apparently perfect replica of my house, complete with a button-eyed replacement mother?”

Mac frowned. “I don’t know!”

“Magic,” Said a voice from behind them.

Chandler whirled around in shock, her eyes meeting another set of black buttons, stitched into the face of a perfect replica of her father.

She took a nervous step back. “You’re-”

“Your other father,” He said, not moving towards her, “She sent me up here to check on the three of you. Everything alright?”

Chandler relaxed only slightly at the reminder that there were other people in the room. “We’re fine.”

Duke frowned and stepped forward. “What the hell do you mean, magic?”

Her Other Father smiled politely. “I can’t tell you too much about this place, but I can tell you that it’s magic. A little pocket of space where what you say goes.”

Chandler eyed him warily. “So I can have whatever I want here?”

“Anything at all,” he said.

“In that case... I want you to go back downstairs.”

He nodded and waved at the three of them. “I’ll tell Mother you don’t need anything just yet,” he said, closing the door softly behind him.

Chandler blinked. She hadn’t actually expected that to work.

“I can have whatever I want,” she mused.

Duke and Mac still seemed skeptical, but Chandler was quickly becoming more and more okay with this place. She had power here. She could do whatever she liked.

“I think we’ll be staying for lunch,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument, “This place doesn’t seem half bad.”

Duke and Mac shared a look, but said nothing.

Chandler grinned and turned to her bathroom. “Come on. She said to wash up before lunch, and I’m not going to miss it because we took too long to get ready.”

Duke and Mac nodded and followed her into the bathroom.

After lunch, the Heathers excused themselves and wandered back downstairs to the basement.

Chandler sighed. “I guess we should be getting back. You two have to go home in a little while, after all.”

“And we’ve got school tomorrow,” Mac said.

Duke groaned. “Don’t remind me. Senior year’s gonna suck.”

Chandler shrugged. “I think we’ll be just fine.”

“What makes you say that?” Duke asked.

Chandler grinned. “We’ve got this place to come back to.”

Duke rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and a weird doppelganger of your mother who probably wants to steal your soul or some shit.”

“Shut up, Heather.”

“Sorry, Heather.”

Chandler spared one last look behind her, just to make sure it was real, before turning to the old wooden door and turning the handle.

Thankfully, the odd corridor was still there. She internally scolded herself for worrying that it would have disappeared and led the way back to her actual basement, where they closed the door and locked it behind them.

“Don’t want anything coming out of there,” Duke said, “Or trying to lock us in.”

Chandler rolled her eyes, but the odd uneasy feeling had abated somewhat, so she let it slide.

“Alright, let’s put that away and go upstairs,” Chandler said, already halfway to the stairs, flashlight in hand.

She was oddly eager to get away from that old door. She didn’t really know why, but she got an odd sense of wrongness about it.

Actually, scratch that. She knew exactly why it seemed wrong. It was apparently a magical pocket dimension in her basement housing button-eyed copies of her parents. Of course that would feel wrong.

Still, some small part of her was eager to visit again soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Heather groaned as she flopped face down on her bed. The past week had been… an adventure, to say the least.

The first day of school had started, as usual, with her very narrowly avoiding a detention. The unusual part, however, was that this time she hadn’t gotten out of it on her own. No, her savior had been a tall brunette wearing a denim jacket and the most hideous scarf Heather had ever seen. Despite that, Heather was forced to admit, at least to herself, that this girl was pretty cute.

* * *

 

“Who are you?” she asked

Well, perhaps the better term would be _demanded,_ if she was being completely honest with herself.

The flush that came to her face when the girl’s eyes widened and she stuttered out a nervous “Veronica! S-Sawyer,” was just completely unfair. She was still thanking her lucky stars that her foundation had concealed it for the most part.

She hadn’t been surprised when Veronica had asked to hang out with them. Many people had asked her for that same honor. This one was different though. Rather than wanting the glamor and prestige that came with being a Heather, Veronica just wanted to stop being targeted by the more popular members of the student body. She hadn’t wanted power. Just protection.

Heather could appreciate someone who wasn’t out to take her throne from her. So, she’d allowed Veronica into their little group, and the way Veronica’s eyes lit up when they finished her makeover made Heather’s heart flutter in the most inconveniently pleasant way.

* * *

 

“God,” she groaned, face still buried in her pillows, “Why do I have to act like such a useless lesbian?”

Throughout the week, Veronica had proven herself to be a valuable asset to their clique. She got them out of enough sticky situations for her induction to be more than worth it.

It helped that Heather got to look at her whenever she wasn’t paying attention.

For all her good grades, Veronica was surprisingly dense when it came to Heather’s glaringly obvious interest in her, which, on the one hand, made it a lot easier for her to get away with stealing glances and daydreaming, but on the other hand, it gave Heather no indication as to whether the interest was mutual. She’d had plenty of girls show interest in her before, more than enough to notice the general signs of attraction, but Veronica seemed to be a puzzle Heather just couldn’t figure out.

Heather huffed and sat up, straightening out her blazer. She couldn’t dwell on it now. Duke, Mac, and Veronica would be over any minute to hang out.

She briefly wondered if she should show Veronica the door, but decided against it. Sure, a part of her wanted to, but it was definitely too soon to be showing Veronica the secret other world in her basement.

The sound of the doorbell shook her from her musings, and she hurried downstairs to greet the others.

“Hey!” Veronica chirped, taking off her shoes as she stepped inside, “I’m not late, am I? I would have gotten here sooner, but my parents had to take the car for their date night, so I rode my bike instead.”

Heather looked past Veronica and noticed a bicycle parked next to the driveway. “You rode that all the way here?”

Veronica nodded. “It’s a little farther than I’m used to, but I managed.”

Heather shook her head. “Next time, just ask me or Heather for a ride.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble, though.”

Heather sighed. “Just come upstairs. We can wait for Heather and Heather to get here.”

“Alright!”

Veronica followed Heather upstairs to her room, looking around curiously as though trying to commit her surroundings to memory. When they got to her bedroom, Heather grabbed a magazine and perched at the edge of her bed, flipping through it idly.

“You can just sit wherever,” Heather said, watching the way Veronica stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Veronica looked around, and, finding no chairs, climbed up on the bed next to Chandler, still stiff and nervous.

Heather rolled her eyes and returned her focus to the magazine. Or, she tried, at least. In the end she really only managed to stare uncomprehendingly at the same page for ten minutes, hyper aware of Veronica’s presence.

She sucked in a deep breath, willing herself to act natural, at least until Duke and Mac arrived.

* * *

 

Eventually, Mac and Duke had gotten there, and the four of them had had a good time. Heather had managed to at least pretend she didn’t have a big gay crush on the newest member of their little group, and Veronica seemed to have fun. All in all, she was considering the night a success.

Still, she wondered about the secret world on the other side of the door. If she asked, would there be a replica of Veronica waiting there for her with buttons for eyes?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

However, that night, she found herself tiptoeing down the stairs, towards the door that led down to the basement. She opened it as quietly as she could, wincing at the slight creak of the hinges.

She was glad for the flashlight she brought, since it was pitch black in the basement. The door stood in the same place it had been in last time, still as large and strangely foreboding as before. She turned the key in the knob, the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She ignored it, figuring it was just a draft, and pulled the door open.

Just like last time, a long corridor stretched out before her, and she slowly made her way to the other end, her slippers tapping softly against the hard concrete floor.

She returned to the replica of her basement, but this time, it looked less creepy. The light was on, illuminating the large room and giving it a much more welcoming atmosphere.

“Heather? Is that you?” Her other mother’s voice rang out from upstairs. “You have a visitor!”

Heather frowned, confused, but made her way up the wooden steps to the main part of the house. She stopped in her tracks the moment the front door entered her line of sight.

Standing there, grinning broadly with large black buttons where her eyes should be, was a perfect looking replica of Veronica.

“Hi, Heather,” the other Veronica chirped, with all of the same cheer that had been present when the real Veronica had come over to visit.

“You seemed to like her, so I decided to make a new one for you. The other one seemed horribly dense.” Her other mother nudged the other Veronica closer, smiling just a little too brightly. “So I fixed her.”

The other Veronica took Heather’s hand and lifted it up to her lips, kissing the back of it, and Heather could have swooned right then and there.

“Do you want to hang out upstairs?” the other Veronica asked, smiling down at her warmly.

Heather nodded dumbly, and the other Veronica giggled and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, before rushing up the stairs to Heather’s room.

Heather looked back at her other mother. “You…”

“No need to thank me, dear,” the other mother said, “I’m just giving you what you wanted. She _is_ what you wanted, isn’t she?”

Heather glanced back at the stairs, where Veronica had been standing just moments ago.

She probably wouldn’t be able to be with the _real_ Veronica. This one was an acceptable substitute.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the pacing seems a little fast, but I promise there's a reason for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat enters the story a bit early and causes Heather to question a few things.

Over the course of the next week or so, Heather settled into something of a routine. Wake up, go to school, hang out with Duke, Mac, and Veronica, and the moment she was alone, she would go back through the wooden door in the basement to spend time with the other Veronica.

Duke and Mac had elected not to join her on any more of her excursions into the other world, which she was privately glad for. It would have been difficult to explain why there was a touchy-feely button-eyed clone of Veronica in there.

The other Veronica was probably the main thing that kept her going back. She was just so easy to be with. They talked about everything, other Veronica would eat with them every night, and after dinner, they would just spend the rest of their time before Heather went back in her other room, curled up together on the bed.

This evening, though, they had elected to go for a walk through the garden, which looked ethereal in the light of the moon. Heather looked around in awe as the other Veronica excitedly talked about the plants in the garden.

Suddenly, there was rustling from the bushes, causing Heather to jump back into the other Veronica’s arms.

“Who’s there?” the other Veronica demanded.

“Oh my,” a raspy voice called, “Are you really that afraid of little old me?”

At that, a black cat jumped out of the bushes, climbing one of the trees and settling on a branch. Heather noted that it didn’t have buttons for eyes. That in itself was odd.

Heather stepped forward, despite the other Veronica’s protests. “Were you the one that was talking just now?”

A silly thought, really. Cats couldn’t-

“Why, yes,” the cat said, “Awfully quick of you to put all that together.”

“I-I should go get Mother,” the other Veronica said, stepping back.

The cat eyed Veronica, and, despite there being no visible evidence of this, Heather got the distinct impression that it was _smirking._

“Oh, but aren’t you meant to be a copy of Veronica?” the cat asked, “You know, I’m her cat. She’s quite fond of me. By that logic, shouldn’t you be the same?”

The other Veronica’s brow furrowed. “But… Mother hates cats. And besides, how do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t,” the cat conceded, “And if you want to go get _Mother,”_ it hissed, “Then I won’t stop you, but,” this time, the cat looked at Heather, “If I’m telling the truth, then she’d be awfully heartbroken if I went missing.”

Heather turned to the other Veronica. “Please don’t tell.”

“It’s probably lying,” the other Veronica insisted, turning on her heel, only to be stopped by Heather’s hand on her arm.

“I’m not willing to risk it,” Heather said, pouting up at the other Veronica in a way that would hopefully tug at her heartstrings just enough to get her to go along with it. “Please? For me?”

The other Veronica seemed to mull it over, before her brows shot up. “N-no. I have to. She could be watching.”

With that, she ran off towards the house, and the cat gave a sigh.

“Such a shame,” it said, “I thought that would work.”

“Are you really Veronica’s cat?” Heather asked.

The cat nodded. “I’ve been hers for nearly ten years now.”

“What’s your name?”

The cat jumped down from its chosen perch and stretched out. “J.F.K.”

Heather snorted.

“She was young,” the cat insisted defensively, “Hardly more than a kit herself. I’d like to see you come up with a better name at such an age.”

Heather giggled at the mental image of a tiny Veronica getting a new kitten and naming it after J.F.K.

J.F.K. rolled his eyes. “In any case, what was the puppet doing here?”

“Puppet?”

He nodded again. “The thing that calls itself Veronica. You don’t have any buttons, so I’d assume you wished for her. Why?”

Heather stiffened at the accusation, crossing her arms defensively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah. I see,” He snickered, “Someone’s got a crush. Not bad taste, either. Excluding the puppet, of course.”

“Why do you keep calling her a puppet?”

“Because she is,” he explained, turning and trotting off, “Walk with me.”

Heather followed, curious to hear what the cat had to say.

“The creature that calls herself Mother made everything here,” he said, “The house, the grounds, the people. But she can’t make anything new. All she can do is change what’s already there.”

Heather frowned, her eyes scanning their surroundings. Everything was becoming… blurry. Like less work was put into the details.

The cat seemed to notice her realization. “Of course,” he said, “There’s a limit as to how far she can see, and how much she feels like showing. She’ll only create what she knows she can use to impress you.”

“Why does she want to impress me?” Heather asked.

She could have sworn that the cat shrugged. “To keep you here, of course. And I suppose that copy of Veronica is reason enough for you to stay, isn’t it?”

Heather didn’t answer. “Why does she want to keep me here?”

“Perhaps she wants to love something that’s not herself,” he mused, “Or maybe she just wants something to eat.”

Heather shuddered, looking around the now blank landscape. There was nothing. No moon. No sky. “Why would she want to eat me?”

“I don’t know. How do you taste?” J.F.K. snickered at his own joke as the world around them came back into focus.

Heather sighed with relief as the world became more familiar looking.

“I should go soon,” the cat said, “She doesn’t particularly like having me here.”

“Why do you come here, then?”

“Since when have you heard of a cat staying out of places it’s not wanted?” he laughed, “Besides, it’s a bit like a game. She tries to keep me out, and I keep getting in.”

“How?” Heather asked.

“I shouldn’t say,” he replied, “She could be watching.”

“Watching?”

The cat hummed. “Just be wary of anything sporting buttons. Her puppets have some measure of will, but She’s always watching.”

Heather frowned, unsure what the cat meant, before a shout of “Heather!” drew her out of her musings.

“That would be the puppet,” J.F.K. said, “She really, truly believes she loves you, doesn’t she?”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Without another word, J.F.K ran off.

“There you are!” the other Veronica said, “I didn’t know where you’d gone, and I was so _worried-”_

Heather shushed her. “It’s alright. I’m fine. Let’s go back inside.”

The cat’s words still rang in her ears long after she went back to her own room.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hesitate to leave a comment! I crave validation! And if you like, feel free to send me an ask at shanes-scribbles on tumblr!


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